Mislead
by FranklyJoyous
Summary: Sherlock isn't done dancing with the Devil yet. post season 3
1. Chapter 1

It had been 27 hours and 16 minutes since the broadcast heard 'round the nation and Sherlock Holmes finally found the source.

"Are you positive this one was his?"

"ehm, yeah, he said he liked sitting by the window. Liked to watch the birds" Molly said from the door with her arms crossed tightly over her chest. Only the toe of her shoe crossing the threshold into Bart's IT Department.

"Brilliant, you, Matthews-"

"It's Marbles, Mr Holmes" Kevin Marbles said with all the confidence he could muster, considering this was the seventh time he had corrected the detective. For a genius, he was shit with names.

"-Maples, who has used this desktop since the illustrious Jim abandoned his post 5 years ago?"

Just over a day beforehand when his mission to Eastern Europe had been disrupted 'for England' he should have guessed it would end up right where all of this started. Tracking the signal had been disgustingly complicated, layered with red herrings and various tricks that lead the detective and his specialized team of homeless hackers through hours of data and binary nonsense. But there they were, Jim's old desk. The office of the devil himself.

"Andrews used it for about a year, then there was Kelley. He's been there for the last four, good worker." Marbles was tired, he didn't understand why this man was so interested in who used a computer five years ago, it had been updated so far beyond that point. Five years ago the sad little Dell ran Vista.

A phone buzzed in Sherlock's pocket as he considered the tech in front of him.

CAMERAS WIPED NO EVIDENCE OF ANYONE OUT OF THE ORDINARY ENTERING I-T BEFORE BROADCAST. -JW

"Thank you, John. Helpful as always. Ah, well back to this. Mathers, do you know what we have in front of us?" Sherlock said as he stood to his full height and adjusted his scarf.

"It's Marbles, as in what you've clearly lost, and what we have in front of us is a bloody old computer a psychopath sat in front of for a month and a half while trying to get into both of your pants."

"Oh God" Molly mumbled hiding her embarrassment with her hands.

"I assure you Mr Martle, James Moriarty wanted nothing to do with my pants. And also, you're an idiot because what we have in front of us is the very last tie to a dead man haunting England through technology. Somehow, someone is using this piece of equipment to keep his twisted legacy moving forward. I want to know who, I want to know why, and I want to stop them. And I get what I want." The Great Detective bent over the keyboard and began typing in a username and password he had lifted off an administrator ages ago.

"So he's definitely dead?" Molly asked quietly from behind her hand.

Sherlock paused and looked at the woman "Dr. Hooper, you did the autopsy, you know he's dead."

"Well, yeah, but... I did yours too."

"Molly, don't be obtuse. The man's dead we both know it..." and he finished typing in the password.

MSTAMFORD

1Password1

Then the computer exploded.


	2. Chapter 2

One Month later

"Bored"

"Sherlock, shut it" John Watson said as he tossed a rolled up tea towel at his best friend.

John was at 221B cooking an elaborate meal, well, as elaborate as he got. It had peas in it somewhere. Mary was returning home from hospital after giving birth. Unfortunately, due to an ill timed infestation, though John was want to wonder when a good time for rodents was, "home" was back at Baker Street. Just for now though, 'I swear darling.' His amazing, saint of a wife, had only one request during their stay at the confirmed bachelor pad, and it was that only food was to be kept in the kitchen. Sherlock instantly latched onto this stipulation, removing all plates, utensils, cookery, and even the elements for the stovetop until Mary threatened him. An equilibrium was reached and Molly came to remove all limbs to her own flat. John's first order of business was to return the tea to where it had been pre-Janine.

With dinner baking happily in the oven Dr. Watson turned back toward his friend and told him that under no circumstances was he to forget the meal while he was picking up Mary and his daughter from Bart's.

"Sherlock" John said loudly, trying his best to get the other man's attention. He only grunted a reply, but considering this was better than most times, he took it as a sign of acknowledgment. "I'm going to get the girls, when that timer goes ding take the casserole out and set it on the cooktop to cool. Grab Mrs. Hudson and we'll be home soon." Another grunt and a dart sailed out of nowhere, sinking into the far wall. "Oh God... what am I bringing my fragile baby girl into."

"Considering her mother's aim continues to remain better than mine, I'd say nothing she wouldn't face by toddlerhood anyways. Now, go fetch my god-daughter so I can have enough time to order take-away to replace your inevitably charred meal." Sherlock grinned at his friend's scowl and moved his hand in a shooing motion. A sharp turn had the former Captain marching out the door and down the stairs.

An hour later a returning John Watson cautiously stuck his head through the door of the flat.

"I believe it's safe, no guns, no smoke... actually, no Sherlock... Sherlock?" he called out, stepping fully into the room. The man in question burst through the kitchen, slamming his bedroom door behind him. "Move John, move, let me see her" pushing his best friend out of the way, "Molly."

"Ehm, hello!"

"You're too big."

"Admittedly, a first-" she mumbled.

"John, where is your child? Have you lost her already?"

"Have I... Did you honestly just ask me if I lost my newborn? No Sherlock, Mary is waiting with Mrs Hudson until I can confirm that this place is safe for them."

"And the presence of Molly is...?" Sherlock enquired with a waspish tone.

"I can answer that actually," Molly said with a bit more false courage than she felt. "I have a head for you, and John and Mary saw me leaving and were nice enough to offer to share a cab so I didn't have to take the tube."

"A head?!"

"Yes, John, do keep up. Now Molly, tell me what's so special about this head that you needed to trek here on a broken foot."

"Well you see-"

"Hoo hoo! Mary was sick of waiting downstairs so we just made the climb."

"No, we had a deal, no body parts in the flat. There's about to be a-"

"Excuse me, the door was open so I popped up, who ordered the-"

"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH."

The healthy cry of the newborn Watson stopped all conversation immediately. Mary stepped into the flat and gingerly carried her still sore body and the small swaddled bundle over to Sherlock's chair. Once settled, Mary eyed the group thoughtfully and then with all the aplomb of a seasoned general began rallying her troops.

"Sherlock, pay the man for the food, since you ordered it after most likely purposely burning John's casserole. Molly, please put the cooler with the head in it just inside Sherlock's bedroom, he isn't allowed near it until after dinner. Which is of course when we will discuss whether said head will be staying. When you've done that dear, come back and coo over my baby, you're staying for dinner. Mrs Hudson, sit and rest your hip. John, you may now present." Mary sank into the back of the chair relaxing as her husband picked up their small girl.

"Well then, I believe I shall. Sherlock, Mrs. Hudson, Molly, may I present Miss Gloria Scott Watson."

"Scott? That's an unusual choice for a girlie." Apparently the delivery man hadn't left after receiving payment.

"It's a family name, and please leave. Now." John said sternly to the interloper and he most definitely did not see Sherlock's eyes glaze and redden ever so slightly.

Perfunctory cooing over the baby's name, face, eyes, nose, hair, toes, and all other simply adorable parts ensued while Sherlock set the delivery on the kitchen table.


End file.
